


On the Road to Rishikesh

by AndThatWasEnough



Series: 2020 Supernatural Shutdown Bingo [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baseball, Canonical Character Death, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Castiel is Not Okay (Supernatural), Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Episode: s15e06 Golden Time, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, References to the Beatles, Road Trips, Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, The White Album
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndThatWasEnough/pseuds/AndThatWasEnough
Summary: Or, how The White Album saved Castiel's life and taught him how to grieve.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline
Series: 2020 Supernatural Shutdown Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715419
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	On the Road to Rishikesh

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2020 Supernatural Shutdown Bingo: Free Space.
> 
> You really need to be listening to The White Album while you read this, if you can. Super Deluxe edition preferred. 
> 
> Also: this story isn't the nicest to Sam and Dean. Don't get me wrong, I love them to bits, but Cas is in a hard place at this point in time (between 15x03 and 15x06), and I believe that his pain deserves to be acknowledged, and that includes the Winchesters' treatment of him during this time. But I didn't tag this as anti because it's not. It's just calling them out on their shit. ;)
> 
> Happy reading :)

Cas leaves Lebanon in the rearview mirror.

He walks (not storms, not saunters, not sprints, just…walks) out of the bunker, climbs calmly into his truck, and pulls away, driving through the streets at the onset of dusk, working very hard to not think of anything, just drive. He mostly succeeds. He passes the sign reading _Now Leaving Lebanon. Come back soon!_ He doesn’t think so.

Cas moves on.

xXx

Well, not entirely. But he’s taken the first step – actually walking out the door and leaving. That’s progress. It hurts, a lot. Every time he thinks of returning home, he reminds himself that he no longer has one. _Again_. And just when he was starting to think he did, too. What a shame. But as he drives, he wonders what it is that he’s going to do, exactly. Should he do something he’s always wanted to do? Does he have a…oh, what are they called… _bucket list_ , that’s it. Does he even have one of those? Cas doesn’t think he ever took the time to think about it.

There is a not-small part of him that misses Sam and Dean already. There’s a part of him that wants to go back. Dean hadn’t exactly told him he had to go, but the more Cas thinks about it, the more he becomes convicted that what he’s doing is the right thing. If he’s no longer needed there, then he will find where he is.

But then a thought strikes him: what if he isn’t needed _anywhere?_

It’s a question that rocks him to his foundations. Everyone he has ever loved is either gone or no longer needs him, so what’s he supposed to do? Back to square one again, he thinks, sighing, as he stares out the windshield, still driving aimlessly, nowhere to go and nowhere in mind. Maybe he’ll just go wherever the road takes him. A…road trip. Maybe, along the way, he’ll find something. Anything. Someone, something, someplace. Being aimless for a little while might not be the worst thing in the world; he knows for a fact it isn’t. 

At the crossroads, he heads east. Why not?

xXx

Cas’s grace may be waning with each use, he can feel it, but he’s still an angel. He still doesn’t really need to eat or sleep – not yet, anyways – so he drives through the night. For a while, there’s not much to see – it’s Kansas. But then he hits Kansas City, glad to see it not overrun with monsters, and then he’s in Missouri. There’s not necessarily a lot to see in Missouri, either, but in the early morning, he reaches St. Louis. There’s a little more to St. Louis, most notably its arch. Cas figures he can pull off at the exit and spend the day here, explore the city some. He wants to go up in the arch, he decides, but first he wants some coffee, maybe some waffles, for appearances. So he pulls up to a diner on the outskirts of the city, finds it very busy with people from all walks of life – truckers, a few people in business attire, and others he can’t place just by appearance. The older waitress gives him a harried but kind smile, signaled she would seat him in a moment. Cas wasn’t in a rush.

“What can I get’cha, hun?”

She was every waitress in America, Cas thought to himself. They were nearly all like this. “Just coffee for now, thank you.”

“No problem, sug’.”

Cas sighed and leaned back in the booth, aqua vinyl creaking and stretching slightly as his weight shifted, and he looked out the window. The sun was coming up, another new-different sunrise for another new-different day. At least God had gotten that much right – no two sunrises or sunsets were quite the same, and Cas was glad for it. A little variety never hurt. What did hurt, a little, was admitting that Chuck had even gotten a few things right. The sky, the stars, outer space; the way brooks really did babble, and rivers rushed; there was so much about this planet, this universe, that He had gotten all right, in its little details and intricacies. What a shame, to have to give the credit, at least partially.

“Here ya go.” The waitress came back with his coffee, and Cas glanced up, noting that her name was Gertie. She pulled her notebook out of her apron, ready to take his order. “What’re we feelin’ this morning?”

Cas glanced at the menu briefly, looking for waffles. He had decided he might as well get some if he was going to take up a table. “Uh…the blueberry waffles with a side of sausage.”

“Sure thing, sug’. That’ll be all?”

Gertie watched Cas expectantly as he thought. “Uh, what else is there to do here, besides go up in the arch?”

“Well, there’s the botanical gardens, and Forest Park. Oh, and there’s a Cardinals game tonight. Could probably get a pretty cheap ticket up in the nosebleeds at the gate.”

Well then. Looks like Gertie had planned the rest of Cas’s day.

xXx

The game isn’t until seven, the internet tells him, and he has all day to take in the gardens and the park, so after breakfast, Cas payed (generously tipping, trying to forget the times that Sam and Dean would sometimes put little smiley faces on the receipts for whatever sweet reason), and went for a walk around the block. It was a gorgeous spring morning, and the city was already alive, stores opening up for the day, flipping their signs from closed to open. When Cas wandered into a music store, the shop owner seemed startled that he already had a customer so early in the morning. But they were open, weren’t they?

The store sold CDs, which Cas thought he remembered those were sort of _out of style_ , but the truck had a CD player, so this worked. He didn’t really know what to pick, so he just sort of went for the first thing that caught his eye, which was a thick white square. He was drawn in by its simplicity, and it was as good a place to start as any, he figured. He’d never really had much of a taste in music of his own – but now he was a new man.

“Good album. Might, uh, wanna check this one out, too.” The shop keep – Kurt, his guitar-shaped nametag read – handed over another CD, this one with two discs and a man with a hat and a long beard on the front sitting on a tree stump. _All Things Must Pass_. Kurt tapped the case. “Best of the solo albums, hands down. In my opinion,” he added. “Just to get you started.”

Cas nodded once resolutely and smiled at Kurt. “Okay, then.”

He paid for his purchases, feeling a sense of accomplishment, and walked back to his truck.

xXx

The view from the arch was incredible.

It made Castiel miss his wings.

xXx

The gardens and the park were nice urban green spaces, good for some silent meditation, but Cas found that almost as soon as he turned off his mind and opened it to the flow of thoughts he had once welcomed, that silence and that flow now only brought with it the deepest despair. Thoughts of the friends he left behind, the father who despised them all…and the son he had lost.

It was bad before, but now that he was alone, Cas could now truly feel the gaping hole that Jack’s death had left within him. Sitting on a park bench watching the birds wasn’t going to fix that; no sum of hours spent in meditation would bring him back. Cas had been stabbed, shot at, cut, torn, tortured, even killed, but it was no exaggeration that this loss hurt worse than all of that combined. He had made a promise, and he had failed, and he did not want to imagine what Kelly thought of him for his failures towards their son.

Cas shot up off the bench. The birdsongs were suddenly mocking him. It was time to go.

It was almost time for the game, anyways.

xXx

Gertie had been right; it was very simple to just go up to the gate and buy a cheap ticket high up in the stands. No one batted an eye, though Cas knew it was ridiculous to think anyone would. The season was just beginning, so there was an excitement in the air, that maybe this was their year. It was a beautiful evening to match the beautiful day they’d had, a bit cool, but Cas didn’t really notice. Maybe he would sometime soon, if his grace continued to fail. But for tonight, as he sat atop the stadium, it was perfect.

Cas didn’t really understand baseball - he had just been looking for something to do. It seemed a nicer game than football; nobody was running head-first into each other and laying on the ground roiling in pain after getting hit by a man twice their size. Instead of looking like play soldiers, they all wore little hats with cardinals on them – as advertised, he supposed – and there was a natural rhythm to it, a suspense. It was easy to just sit and watch, and Cas was even able to move up some and get a better look, leaning a bit over the railing so he could watch the man who threw the ball to the men who tried to hit the ball, but the ball was often caught by the man who…caught balls. There were other men who caught balls, but they were all spread out around the diamond. He got the sense that when a man hit a ball and that ball was caught, he had to leave the diamond, but a ball hit far enough was a “homerun”, which was very exciting and meant fireworks. Also, every now and then, a disembodied organ would play. Amusing.

When the game was over and Cas was fairly certain the Cardinals had won, he got distracted by one of the gift shops, and he decided he wanted one of those hats that the players were wearing. Even though they were obscenely expensive, he couldn’t quite resist a good bird, especially one that was perched on a baseball bat like it was a tree limb.

He bought the hat, of course.

In the checkout line, as he and the cashier were waiting on his card to be approved, he noticed there were little cardinals sitting up on the counter, a small stuffed toy. Cas had seen the mascot during the game and it had looked quite silly, but this was like the cardinal on the hat, like a real one – well, as real as a stuffed animal could look. It seemed like something Jack would have liked, though Cas wasn’t quite sure why he felt that way. “Does the mascot have a name?”

The girl at the register nodded. “Fredbird.”

Fredbird. What a name. 

“I’m sorry, but could I add one of these to my purchase?” Cas asked the girl, setting one on the counter. “It’s, uh, for my son.”

As she re-rang him up, Cas wondered to himself why he had even bothered with the lie on that one.

xXx

Sitting in his truck with the overhead light on, Cas closely examined his map, trying to decide where to go next. The parking garage was nearly emptied out by now, but Cas was in no rush these days – no family, no cause, no home…no rush. 

So far, going east had gotten him some decent blueberry waffles, two CDs, a ticket to the Cardinals-Phillies game, a new hat, and a stuffed cardinal named Fredbird. It had been a fruitful experience, then. Maybe he should continue going east. Maybe there would be more baseball games to see, and he could collect more tickets and hats and mascots. Yes…that seemed a good idea. It was more direction than he’d had at the beginning, so…why not? That was his new motto: Why. _Not_.

With a plan in mind, Cas put on his new hat, put Fredbird up on the dash, and after a few moments of deliberating between the two, put the first CD of _The White Album_ in his CD player.

The sound of a jet engine filled the truck as Castiel drove out of St. Louis, headed eastward.

xXx

Cas stopped in Springfield, Illinois, which meant he was only roughly halfway through the album when he pulled over. He wasn’t so much tired as he was feeling…antsy, but he didn’t want to risk anything by wandering around, just sat in the truck and continued to listen. By the time he arrived in Springfield, the original album was over, and he was now ready to start in on the demos and early takes. Cas wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it’s not like he had anything else to do right now. Nothing was open except for the all-night eating establishments, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to sit in another greasy spoon in the middle of the night. So – music it was.

xXx

It was at some early point during his third listen through the entire deluxe album – he thinks the song is called “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, as the box tells him – and the line ‘ _I don’t know why nobody told you/how to unfold your love/I don’t know how someone controlled you/they bought and sold you’_ that Castiel decided he never needs to listen to another Bob Seger or AC/DC song ever, ever again. 

xXx

He can’t help it – every time it ends, he wants to hear it again. Would the next album Kurt had sold him feel the same? Cas hoped so. 

He spent the day in Springfield, seeing all the historic sites in Lincoln’s hometown. He went to the visitor’s center, and took a tour of the family house, and noted that a man of Lincoln’s size would have probably felt very small in it. (Sam probably would have, too.) And the bathroom was outside. Cas was sure the humans were all thinking to themselves how grateful they were for indoor plumbing.

At the museum giftshop, he bought a puzzle.

xXx

Chicago apparently had two professional baseball teams. Two! The Cubs and the White Sox. Cas thought to himself that the residents of the city were truly spoiled for choice. The Cubs had won their first World Series in 108 years in 2016, and Cas remembered being in a bar late into the night with Sam and Dean, and they had gotten very rowdy and excited. _Witnessing history_ , is how Dean had put it. _It’s a nice thing to see happen_ , was Sam’s take.

They were the team in town tonight. The White Sox were away. The decision had been made for him.

Cas still took a drive through the South side, though, went past the Robie House and stopped by a bookstore on the University of Chicago’s campus, not really looking for anything in particular, but just trying to find ways to pass the time until the game tonight. It was early enough that he thought he might stop by one of the museums, as well. There was really nothing stopping him, was there? 

“Help you find something?”

Cas looked down and saw a small older woman with big glasses and an even bigger smile looking up at him. Her Seminary Co-Op Bookstore badge proclaimed that her name was Jane. Cas gave her a tight smile because that seemed to be all he could manage. “Um…I’m not sure.” He gestured to the shelves. “I was just…looking.”

Jane nodded her understanding. “No problem. If you think of anything, just let me know.”

Cas nodded, not planning on going back to her for any help, but as Jane turned her back, an idea occurred to him. It wasn’t a pleasant one, and the thought of asking for such a thing almost felt like defeat, but things were different now. He needed to start living differently and acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, asking for help was not the sign of weakness he once thought it was.

“Excuse me?” Jane turned back around with a raised eyebrow, ready to help. “Do you have any books on…grief?”

Jane’s expression instantly melted into one of understanding and kind consideration. “Yes, we do. Come with me.”

xXx

Jane loaded Cas down with titles such as _Grief Works, Good Grief, Comfort: A Journey Through Grief, Bearing the Unbearable,_ and even a novel called _Dear Edward_ that some woman named Jenna Bush-Hager highly recommended. As soon as Cas had explained that he had recently lost his son, Jane had expressed her sincere condolences, and Cas appreciated it greatly.

“I lost a sister a few years ago,” she confided. “We were very close. It helped to talk about it, but I know your son’s passing is recent and you might not be ready yet.”

Cas wasn’t sure he was not- _not_ ready, so he shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know. Couldn’t hurt to try.”

Jane seemed to like hearing that. “Well, I help run a group that meets in Harper Memorial Library. We have a meeting tomorrow, if you’d like to come, at seven. There’s coffee,” she added at Cas’s slight hesitation.

Who was Cas to turn down free coffee?

xXx

Wrigley Field, located in the aptly-named Wrigleyville on Chicago’s north side, is a storied place, Castiel learns. It’s the second oldest ballpark in the nation, and the last remaining park of something called the Federal League, disbanded in 1915. It’s a nice ballpark, with an ivy-covered outfield wall and a hand-turned scoreboard a bright red entry marquee, and there’s a lake effect breeze that makes the night a little cooler than the one in St. Louis, but Cas is still only marginally affected. It’s a beautiful night to be outside and try to get a better grasp on the game. The Cubs are hosting the Milwaukee Brewers, and Cas figures the name has something to do with beer, which seems to be free-flowing commodity at sporting events.

He once again sits up high in the stands, but he’s still able to intently observe what’s happening. The thing is, not much happens for the home team – they’re struggling to score, but the Brewers are not, and the crowd doesn’t seem too pleased with that. Maybe teams that win World Series’ aren’t good _every_ year.

Since there’s not a whole lot happening for the Cubs – and Cas has decided to pull for whatever team is the home team, no matter where he goes – he allows himself to look around. He sees a lot of families, and he feels mocked. They’re happy; they’re having a night out at the ballpark, eating hot dogs and wearing jerseys with names that aren’t their own printed across the back, and taking pictures with the field and the sunset in the background. It’s the American Dream, to have a family that you love and a team that you love and a job you can at the very least put up with. Cas doesn’t have any of those things. 

He tries not to feel sorry for himself, but for once, he thinks that might not be what this is. That for once, he has every right to feel just _horrible_ , and that no road trip could ever truly fix that. Maybe the people at group tomorrow would understand a feeling like that. It’s just…he just _so_ wishes that Jack could be here. He would love a place like this, with the bright colors of the uniforms and the perfectly mown grass on the diamond, and the junk food and the souvenirs. And even if he couldn’t be here, it would be more bearable if Sam and Dean could be with him, sharing in his grief, but they certainly don’t seem to be. Dean sent him down to Hell with Belphegor, an abomination parading around in his son’s body, and it’s not like Sam did a single thing to stop him, even if he didn’t do anything directly. 

Cas suddenly feels just so _bitter_.

The Cubs end up losing the game seven to none, but Cas, even in all his bitterness, is still glad he came. He likes the organ music, and he now knows a few more of the positions on the field, such as the catcher, who is behind home plate (that one seems like a bit of a no-brainer) and something called shortstop. He’s learning – slowly, but he’s learning.

Of course, there’s a stop at the giftshop. The hat is bright blue with a bright red _C_ on it, and even though there’s no bird, Cas likes the colors. He makes sure to get one with a traditional brim, not one of those flat ones. He also picks up a stuffed bear in a little jersey, and he once again says it’s for his son.

And in a way, it’s sort of true.

xXx

Cas spends his Saturday driving around Chicago and listening to _The White Album_. His favorites are “Dear Prudence”, “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, “Blackbird”, “Julia”, “Long, Long, Long”, and “Cry Baby Cry”, but he really likes them all, truly, even all of the demos and outtakes, excepting “Revolution 9.” “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill” reminds him of Dean, certainly, and the gentle sadness of the “Can You Take Me Back?” outtake reminds him, for some reason, of Sam.

“Mother Nature’s Son” reminds him of Jack, and he can’t help but listen to it on repeat.

xXx

Cas really likes Chicago. He can disappear into it and enjoy it without feeling bothered. That’s an unexpected side-effect of this little trip; his mind isn’t on saving the world, or whoever’s in distress this week. He’s not thinking about monsters, or his Father, or the remaining angels, or demons. For the first time since becoming Earth-bound, that is not a burden he seems to be carrying.

The only burden he’s carrying is the loss of the people he loved.

xXx

On Saturday night, Cas goes back to the University of Chicago’s campus and parks near Harper Memorial Library. He’s a little nervous, actually, as he steps inside and follows a sign that tells him where the meeting is. He’s never done anything like this before, not by himself. Sam and Dean have always been there to help with social situations, and while Cas isn’t as socially inept as he once was, he is well aware that people can generally peg him as being a bit odd from the jump – the more formal way he speaks, what he wears, the way some sayings and social customs catch him off-guard. That was something he and Jack had shared, but only because Jack was a child. It would be helpful to have him here, but he wouldn’t be going to this if Jack was here, would he now?

The group met in a little room in the basement, and as promised, there was coffee. There were folding chairs set up in a circle facing each other, and people mingling and talking to each other before the set start time. Nobody looked particularly sad, but Cas wondered if grief was really something you could easily spot on everyone. When he walks in, Jane instantly notices him and sends him a warm smile, walking up to clasp his hands in hers.

“Cas, I’m so glad you could make it,” she says. “We’re just about to start, but can I get you anything?”

“Oh. Just a coffee, please,” he says, noting that there are also pastries and muffins, but he doesn’t need to partake. The coffee is really just to keep up appearances, and he likes the ritual of it. 

After Jane gets him his coffee, they all take a seat in the circle and go around introducing themselves: what their name is, what they do, and who they’ve lost. And since Cas is the new guy, he has the pleasure of getting to go first.

“I’m…Cas,” he begins timidly. “I’m a field agent for the FBI, but, uh, I’m taking some time off and I’m just passing through Chicago. And the reason for that time off is because I lost my son not too long ago.”

There are several sympathetic nods, and one woman is already dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex. Sam and Dean had carried handkerchiefs. Cas is glad that nobody seems to latch onto the bit about him being FBI (allegedly), and he instead sits back and listens to everyone else introduce themselves. They probably all know each other already, but Jane seems to think this is a good thing, and it is, at least for Cas, so he can get an idea of what he’s dealing with. There are people who have lost parents, siblings, friends, and a couple others who have lost children. After everyone has (re)introduced themselves, Jane takes back over.

“Just as I do every week, I want to commend you all for being here,” she said gently. “Grieving the loss of a loved one is one of the hardest things we’ll ever have to do, and the fact that you’re willing to come here, talk about that person, talk about your feelings…it is incredibly brave. Now, who would like to start us off?”

It goes on like this, going around the circle as people share what they’re feeling, how they’re trying to get back to feeling normal, what’s making them sad = and what’s making them happy. Grief, it seems to Castiel, is a balancing act. You’re trying to move on with your life, but still are hanging on to the person that you’ve lost because…why? Not just because it hurts, but because you’re afraid of forgetting them. And if you forget them, how can you honor them? Jack will never be able to forget Jack. He’ll never be able to let go of him. Jack was only in his life for two years – somewhat intermittently, admittedly – but not a day had passed since he and Kelly had moved to Washington to prepare for the boy’s birth that he didn’t think about Jack, and he suspected it would be like that…forever. 

For the record, with as angry as he was with them right now, he’d never forget Sam and Dean after they died, either. 

“ _I-I can't think about losing him or -- or Sam, or you. I-I just -- I hate -- I hate thinking about it.”_

_“Yeah. So do I. But, Jack you know, Sam and Dean, they're human, and they're very extraordinary, brave, special humans, but they're -- they're still humans. And humans burn bright, but for a very brief time compared to, you know, things like us. And eventually, they're gone, even the very best ones, and we have to carry on. It's just -- It's part of growing up.”_

_“Losing people?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“What's the point?”_

_“The point?”_

_“What's the point of being a cosmic being if everyone I care about is just gonna leave?”_

_“The point is that they were here at all and you got to know them, you. When they're gone, it will hurt, but that hurt will remind you of how much you loved them.”_

_“That sounds awful.”_

_“It is. But it's also living. So when Dean wakes up -- and he will wake up -- we just have to remember to appreciate the time that we all have together now._ ”

“Cas? Is there anything you’d like to share about how you’re doing?”

Cas tunes back in and looks at Jane, and she and all the rest of the group are looking at him with patience and kindness, with no pressure to share anything. He got the feeling if he said he wasn’t ready to talk yet, they wouldn’t have pushed him, but that was just it – Cas _was_ ready to talk. Sam and Dean hadn’t been; they hadn’t even given him the chance.

“ _I've tried to talk to you, over and over, and you just don't want to hear it. You don't care. I'm...dead to you. You still blame me for Mary. Well, I don't think there's anything left to say.”_

_“Where you going?”_

_“Jack's dead. Chuck's gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it's time for me to move on_.”

Cas was ready to talk.

“Alright,” he breathes. “Well, my son, Jack, his mother died when he was born.” There’s an immediate reaction of sympathy. “And I promised her I would raise him to be someone she would be proud of. I and a couple…close friends of mine did just that. Jack was an amazing young man – kind and intelligent and…” Cas trailed off with a shrug. He could’ve gone on and on and on, but he decided to stay on track. “Anyways, he made a couple of mistakes, like anyone does,” he continues morosely. “He did his best to make them right, and I remember him being so scared, and feeling so alone. I did my best to help him, but…there was an accident,” he said delicately, “he got into an accident, and then he was…gone. And my friends, the ones who had been helping me raise him, they were hurt by what he’d done, but Jack tried everything he could to fix it. Now that he’s dead, they won’t even talk about him. They won’t let _me_ talk about him, or try to explain. I just couldn’t stay any longer. And it all happened so fast, and so recently…I don’t know. I just miss him.”

“ _You don't think I'm angry? After what Chuck did? After what he took from me? He killed Jack.”_

There was silence for a few moments as everything Cas said sunk in. Then an older gentleman spoke up.

“You did the right thing, getting out of there,” he said. “This Jack of yours sounds like he was a good kid who got mixed up in the wrong crowd. Most people in his position would have dug themselves deeper, but he tried to make things better. If they can’t see that, screw ‘em. He was your kid and he deserves to be mourned.”

There were several nods of agreement, and then another woman said, “I wonder if part of their hesitation is that they never got the closure they needed. Your friends never got to make amends with Jack.”

“That’s a good point,” Jane agrees. “Since his death was sudden, there was no time for forgiveness. Their hurt is understandable, but their treatment of you and their refusal to listen to how you’re feeling about this monumental loss is entirely unacceptable.”

Cas was a bit taken aback by those words. He had always thought the highest of Sam and Dean the entire time he knew them – or nearly the entire time – and had hardly ever dared to consider criticizing them. He had been so busy amending his own mistakes that he had never stopped to think that Sam and Dean had done a few things to him that he didn’t have to simply put up with, this being the most egregious example. It was a foreign idea to him, but the more he sat with it, the more Cas thought that maybe Cas was the one who deserved an apology here. Or that maybe they all did. But he didn’t want the fact that he deserved one to go unnoticed by the Winchesters.

“ _Sam and Dean are just using you. Don't mistake that for caring about you, because I can assure you they don't.”_

_“Wow. You learn that the hard way? What is it, Cas, really? This, uh, seething animosity.”_

_“You're wearing Jack, who was like a son to me, like a coat. Every second in your presence is intolerable. It's an abomination. You're an abomination_.”

“You’re right,” Cas said quietly with a small sigh. “So, I’ve moved on. It’s just that I don’t know what to do next.”

“What have you been doing?” Jane asked.

“Driving around. Going to baseball games. Listening to _The White Album._ ”

Another man rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Did you watch the Cubs last night? Pitiful showing.”

Jane looks more thoughtful. “You know what you could try? You could try doing things you think Jack might have enjoyed, or that you had been planning to do. The idea isn’t to avoid the hurt, but to both honor his memory and keep him close to you – to think of the good times you had.”

It’s a good idea, but Jack hadn’t exactly had an abundance of good times in his life. The best time were those months between when he returned from Apocalypse World and Michael’s first possession of Dean. They had been good, but still. The boy had only been two years old when he died. That was hardly a life at all, and Sam, Dean, and Cas hadn’t always been able to give him all the goodness he had deserved.

But Cas likes the idea. He really does. They hadn’t exactly made a lot of plans, but Cas knew his son, no matter how little time they’d had together, and he could make some educated guesses about what it was he would have liked to see and do. And now, he had all the time in the world ahead of him to do so.

“That’s part of the reason I’ve been going to the baseball games. I’ve been trying to go to as many parks as I can go to, get a hat. I went up the arch in St. Louis. I stopped in Springfield, which he would have liked – he loved just… _learning_. He was so smart.” Cas voice breaks just a _bit_ at the end there. His chest hurts. Everyone nods again. There is so much nodding. 

“Don’t forget to take some time for yourself, too,” Jane reminds him. “This isn’t a crusade. It’s a process.”

Cas gets it. The only question is – where to next?

xXx

Cas stays another week in Chicago. Mostly because he wants to go to one more meeting, just to talk a little more and say thank you and goodbye before moving on, but in the week he’s there, he goes to a couple more baseball games – one for each team, and he gets a hat and another puzzle at the White Sox game – the Field Museum, Shedd Aquarium, the Science and Industry Museum, the Art Institute, Millennium Park, the Lincoln Park Zoo, up the Sears and Hancock towers, Soldier Field, and Navy Pier. It’s a real plus that he doesn’t have to do any upkeep for his vessel, because he otherwise wouldn’t have the time to fit everything in. He still feels as if he’s only skimming the surface, but it’s a good time.

He thinks Jack would have enjoyed them all. The mummy exhibit and the dinosaur fossils, the mirror maze and the train layout, and all of the animals. By the time Cas is getting ready to leave Chicago, his backseat is full of junk, little souvenirs from all the places he’s visited and all the things he’s done. Things Jack might have liked.

After the meeting, Cas is in much the same position as he was when he was in St. Louis deciding where to go next. He’s sitting in the parking lot looking at a map, but this time he’s already got _The White Album_ playing – once again; he probably knows the thing backwards and forwards by now – and his phone is going off. He picks it up and checks it; he hasn’t bothered with checking notifications in a few days, but he must have taken it off silent at some point. Maybe when he took a picture of the sun setting out his dash, Fredbird and the Cubs bear in the shot from his dashboard.

It’s Sam.

_Hey Cas checking in._

_How are you doing? Everything okay?_

_Cas call me we need to talk._

_Didn’t realize you were taking off._

_Service sucks in the bunker, want to make sure you’re getting these?_

Cas stares at the screen for a long, long, long time. He realizes that this means that Sam has no idea why he has left, that Dean hasn’t told him. Sam just thinks that Cas has left, is just gone. And yes, Cas made the decision to leave, but it’s so much more complicated than that, and he can’t help but find it incredibly annoying that Dean is once again hiding something from his brother. Why is this what they do? _Why is this what we do?_ Cas corrects himself, and he sighs and turns off his phone. He doesn’t know how to answer any of those questions, not in any way that will reassure Sam. It’s too big of a conversation to have over the phone, and all Cas would know to say is that no – everything is not okay.

But he might be able to get there. Because he has something of a plan now of what he needs to do.

Cas goes back to looking at his map. If he continues going East, he’ll keep hitting more cities, more and more densely populated areas. He thinks he might need a bit of a break from that, but it’s not like he wants to spend any time in Amish country. But – where? He has all the time in the world and intends on going to as many places on this planet as he can, places he would have taken Jack, but he wants to stay in the contiguous United States for now. He’s not quite ready to leave yet. So – where?

Paul McCartney seems to know.

_“Love you forever and forever/Love you with all my heart/Love you whenever we're together/Love you when we're apart.”_

He looks up and stares at the CD player. “I Will” is a love song, Cas knows that, he’s figured that out. A romantic sort of love. But love goes beyond romantic partners. It’s your dearest friends. A most wanted and beloved son. Cas would love Jack whether or not they were together or apart, forever and forever.

He would even love Sam and Dean, even if he could no longer be with them.

Even if it hurt.

Because it _would_ hurt, Jane told him. That’s what the books told him. It’s what his own experience told him. It would never not hurt. But just because they were gone from his life, in whatever capacity, didn’t mean Cas had loved them any less.

Oh, Jack….

Cas hoped he was in a good place. Maybe with Kelly. Cas hoped they could forgive him for not doing more, and could only hope that his love was enough.

He looked at his map one last time, an idea occurring to him. What if he started heading west, for Washington? Go back to the place Jack was born. Maybe that would be a way to feel close to him. 

xXx

Cas only gets as far as Wyoming. He stops there for a bit simply because he likes the scenery and he’s a bit road-weary. He rents a cabin and buys a CD player, and when he’s not fishing or going into town, he’s listening. Sometimes, he sings along, and he really believes it when Paul says life goes on, and when he finally begins listening to _All Things Must Pass,_ he knows exactly what George is talking about when wondering what life is without someone you love.

And as the song says, all things must pass. So, hopefully, this pain will someday pass, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
